


Snow Fight

by Servena



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: Babe finds him on the back porch.





	Snow Fight

Babe finds him on the back porch. He is just standing there, the snow falling around him in thick flakes, catching in his dark hair and melting on his face. He isn’t even wearing a jacket. But the worst thing, the thing that makes Babe’s words catch in his throat, is the look on his face. It isn’t really a look, it’s the absence of a look, a vacant stare that isn’t seeing the fields in front of him but a forest over 4000 miles away where the trees explode and the sky is lit by flares.

Babe can almost hear the whistle of a shell in his ear and he takes a deep breath.

“Gene”, he says quietly. When Gene doesn’t react he steps out onto the porch, flinching at the cold, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Gene doesn’t startle, instead he seems to wake up gradually until he turns his head and Babe can tell that he’s actually looking at him and not through him. He can feel him shiver underneath his hand.

“You should get inside”, Babe says softly.

Gene’s lips move like he wants to speak, but no words are coming out. Finally he just nods.

Babe leads him into the living room, not letting go of his arm until he’s sitting down on the couch. It’s warm here, Babe has nourished the fire until it’s roaring to keep the cold from creeping in, but he still grabs the worn-out blanket from the armchair before settling down next to Gene, inching closer until their bodies are pressed together. He puts the blanket over both of them and adjusts it until it covers them from their feet almost up to their noses.

Gene is still shaking, a tremble that has everything and nothing to do with the cold, and Babe wraps his arm around him and pulls him closer until Gene sighs almost inaudibly and puts his head down onto Babe’s shoulder.

They don’t talk about it. They don’t need to. Babe considers it one of the greatest blessings of his relationship that he doesn’t have to explain himself, doesn’t have to say anything when he wakes in the middle of the night with a shout or freezes at the sight of spilled tomato juice. (That one they can laugh about later.)

Because Gene understands, he knows. He was there.

And Babe never says anything either, not when he wakes up to the bed empty on one side and he finds Gene sitting at the kitchen table with that look on his face that tells him that Gene isn’t really there.

A part of them will always be in Bastogne.

But most of them is here now, in this house where it’s warm and dry and safe, and Babe is grateful. He leans down to press a kiss to Gene’s forehead. “I love you.”

Gene glances up at him, dark eyes in a pale face. “Love you, too”, he mumbles, accent heavy with exhaustion.

They fall asleep like that. And when they wake up the next morning to the rising sun making the fallen snow look like gold, it’s almost beautiful.

Maybe someday they can go out and have a snowball fight without thinking about it at all, Babe muses. Not today. But someday.


End file.
